HISKERETTA 


MINADEANE  HALSEY 

AUTHOR  OF 

A  TENDERFOOT  IN  SOUTHERN 
CALIFORNIA 


r 


Whiskeretta 


OP  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


WHISKERETTA 


BY 

MINA   DEANE   HALSEY 

AUTHOR  OP 

*A  TENDERFOOT  IN  SOUTHERN  CALIFORNIA*' 

"WHEN  EAST  COMES  WEST" 

"NEEDLES  AND  PINS" 

ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
PRINTED  FOR  THE  AUTHOR 

BY 

J.  J.  LITTLE  &  IVES  CO. 
1911 


COPYRIGHT,  1911,  BY 
MINA  DEANE  HALSEY 


All  rights  reserved 


This  is  an  autograph  edition  of 
Whiskeretta,  the  number  of  this 
copy  being  Lw..?. 


2131 1 21 


TO 

MY  BOY  GENE 

THIS  SMALL  VOLUME 
IS  DEDICATED 


WHISKERETTA 

OF  course,  his  right  name  was  Isaac,  but 
when  two  men  get  well  enough  ac- 
quainted to  go  halves  on  a  cheese 
sandwich,  when  only  one  measly  nickel  stands 
between  'em  and  starvation,  they  ain't  very 
liable  to  waste  much  time  on  politeness,  so  I 
just  naturally  called  him  Ike. 

Yes,  sir — we've  gone  halves  on  many  a  sand- 
wich, and  on  many  a  glass  of  beer,  too,  when 
we  was  just  about  busted.  Of  course,  to  be 
polite,  Ike  always  wanted  me  to  drink  my  half 
of  the  beer  first — said  he  was  brought  up  that 
way;  consequently  all  I  got  out  of  it  was  the 
smell  and  a  mouthful  of  wind. 


WHISKERETTA 

Ike  wouldn't  let  me  blow  off  the  foam- 
said  it  was  wasting  money — but  if  his  stomach 
was  as  chuck  full  of  gas  as  mine  was,  after  I 
got  all  that  was  coming  to  me,  he  wouldn't 
have  been  so  thundering  stingy  on  the  beer 
question. 

Ike  was  all  right  enough,  I  guess — straight 
as  a  string  and  all  that,  but  he  had  bristles  on 
him  just  the  same.  I  never  saw  'em,  of  course, 
but  there  was  a  good  deal  of  pig  about  Ike- 
razor-back  breed,  for  he  only  weighed  105 
pounds,  including  his  whiskers.  Yes,  sir,  the 
only  thing  generous  about  Ike  was  his  whis- 
kers. He'd  been  deformed  with  'em  for 
twenty  years,  and  they  were  still  growing. 

First  time  I  got  a  view  of  'em  they  reminded 
me  of  a  waterfall,  and  Ike  was  so  skinny  he 
looked  like  he  was  hiding  behind  'em  all  the 
time.  They  reached  clear  down  to  his  knees, 

[10] 


and  spread  out  to  his  armpits,  and  once  when 
the  "Seventy  Northerland  Brothers"  were  in 
town  I  heard  that  one  of  'em  nearly  went  dippy 
trying  to  figure  out  how  he  could  work  Ike 
into  the  business. 

He  begged  him  to  be  an  uncle  to  the  whole 
bunch,  and  help  bald-headed  humanity — of- 
fered to  put  him  on  the  road  at  a  good  salary 
if  he'd  just  let  women  run  their  fingers 
through  his  whiskers,  as  an  inducement  to  buy 
a  bottle  of  their  hair  tonic. 

But  Ike  was  shy — any  woman  that  under- 
took to  run  her  fingers  through  his  whiskers 
in  those  days  would  think  she  had  struck  a 
hornet's  nest,  with  a  boarder  in  every  room. 

Another  funny  thing  about  Ike.  He  didii't 
like  women  worth  a  cent — no,  sir ;  he  was  mar- 
ried to  his  whiskers  and  he  was  actually  a  poor 
man  on  account  of  'em,  for  he  couldn't  find  a 
[11] 


WHISKERETTA 

job  that  seemed  to  agree  with  'em  to  save  his 
life.  They  had  never  brought  him  anything 
but  trouble,  since  he'd  had  'em. 

He  told  me  years  ago  when  women  took  to 
wearing  the  biggest  bustles  their  husbands 
could  pay  for,  some  relation  of  his  begged 
him  to  get  a  clean  shave  so  she  could  use  the 
hair  to  make  her  bustle  bigger  than  tier  next 
door  neighbor's. 

Not  by  a  jug  full! 

He  said  he  told  her  to  buy  a  bale  of  hay  or 
any  other  darned  thing  she  had  a  mind  to,  but 
he'd  see  her  in  Mrs.  Jarley's  Wax  Works  be- 
fore he'd  part  with  his  whiskers.  Then  she 
tried  to  work  him  on  the  charity  dodge.  The 
church  was  making  pin  cushions  to  sell  for  the 
benefit  of  the  widows  and  orphans.  Wouldn't 
he  part  with  'em  for  charity? 

Not  so  you'd  notice  it! 
[12] 


WHISKERETTA 

Next,  the  More  Oyster  Mattress  people  got 
wind  of  Ike's  wonderful  collection  of  whiskers, 
and  tried  to  get  a  corner  on  'em  to  use  for  their 
"lame  back"  customers.  I  heard  they  offered 
him  an  interest  in  the  business,  but  still  Ike 
wouldn't  let  go.  Said  he'd  be  lonesome  if  he 
couldn't  hear  the  wind  whistle  through  'em- 
said  those  whiskers  made  a  chest  protector  in 
winter  that  had  the  chamois  skin  kind  whipped 
to  death — said  he'd  have  pneumonia  or 
pluerisy — maybe  both — inside  of  ten  minutes 
if  he  went  out  doors  without  'em — said  he'd 
saved  hundreds  of  dollars  on  neckties  and  clean 
shirts  since  he'd  worn  'em. 

Oh,  Ike  was  mighty  economical,  Ike  was. 
You  couldn't  lose  Ike  on  saving  if  you  stayed 
up  all  night.  Ike  never  wasted  a  cent — said 
he  was  brought  up  that  way. 

Sometimes  when  I  saw  how  awful  stingy  Ike 
[13] 


WHISKERETTA 

was  it  seemed  to  me  it  would  be  a  whole  lot 
cheaper  for  him  to  die. 

Well,  anyway,  when  women  began  to  wear 
"rats"  in  their  bangs  I  sure  did  feel  sorry  for 
Ike.  He  certainly  lost  flesh  keeping  his  eye  on 
those  whiskers  of  his.  One  or  two  women  pro- 
posed to  him — he  knew  it  wasn't  for  love,  but 
for  his  whiskers.  He  was  pretty  good  looking 
with  his  hat  on,  but  when  he  took  it  off,  he 
was  so  bald-headed  he  looked  half  undressed. 

Always  looked  like  the  moths  had  got  in 
and  buckled  down  to  business,  while  Ike  was 
out  hunting  for  moth  balls  in  a  country  drug 
store.  While  he  was  awful  proud  of  his  whis- 
kers, he  was  mighty  sensitive  about  his  bald 
head.  They  tell  a  good  story  on  Ike  and  his 
bald  head,  and  I'll  tell  it  to  you. 

A  good  many  years  ago  Ike  was  fortunate 
enough  to  have  on  hand  a  little  filthy  lucre  that 

[14] 


WHISKERETTA 

needed  touching  up,  and  some  one  told  him 
that  a  sight-seeing  trip  to  California  would 
touch  up  any  spare  lucre  he  might  find  laying 
around  loose  in  his  jeans  so  forcibly  that  he 
never  would  be  troubled  with  round  shoulders 
carting  it  over  the  country.  So  Ike  went  on  a 
rubbering  trip  to  the  land  of  gold. 

One  of  the  first  sights  he  took  in  was  an  os- 
trich farm.  The  fellow  Ike  traveled  around 
with  in  those  days  didn't  have  such  a  flourish- 
ing corn  crop  on  his  feet  as  Ike  did,  so  he 
could  cover  a  lot  of  ground,  without  feeling 
life  was  a  failure,  especially  if  you  had  a  stand- 
ing-up  job. 

So  Ike  told  him  to  take  his  time  looking 
around  while  he  sat  down  and  rested  under  one 
of  the  big  trees;  but  before  five  minutes  had 
passed  he  stretched  himself  out,  and  went 
sound  asleep. 

[15] 


WHISKERETTA 

When  the  other  fellow  showed  up  he 
couldn't  find  Ike  anywhere.  He  saw  a  pair 
of  boots  under  the  tree  that  somehow  reminded 
him  of  Ike,  but  there  was  a  hen  ostrich  camping 
right  side  of  'em,  and,  of  course,  he  didn't  feel 
like  interfering  with  her  family  affairs.  But 
after  a  while  he  "shooed"  her  off,  and  there 
was  Ike,  his  bald  head  as  red  as  a  beet,  and  the 
perspiration  just  rolling  down  his  face. 

Goodness  knows  how  long  that  ostrich  had 
been  sitting  on  Ike's  bald  head,  thinking  it  was 
an  ostrich  egg,  and  the  Lord  knows  what  she 
would  have  hatched  out  if  she'd  only  had  a  lit- 
tle more  time. 

As  the  fashion  for  false  hair  continued  to 
spread  among  the  women  folks,  Ike  rapidly 
dwindled  down  in  flesh,  until  he  was  almost 
skin  and  bones — mostly  bones,  but  still  his 
whiskers  kept  on  growing. 

[16] 


WHISKERETTA 

He  trimmed  'em  once  a  week,  but  it  only 
seemed  to  give  'em  a  fresh  start,  and  they  shot 
out  like  string  beans  under  a  summer  sun.  He 
had  'em  singed,  but  it  only  seemed  to 
strengthen  'em,  and  they  fairly  yelled  with  de- 
light at  being  able  to  show  him  what  a  dandy 
muscle  they  had.  Then  Ike  tried  braiding  'em 
nights  until  some  woman  told  him  it  only  made 
'em  grow  all  the  faster.  Then  he  rolled  'em  up 
on  a  wad  of  paper  that  curled  'em  so  beauti- 
fully, he  couldn't  see  whether  he  was  walking 
on  the  sidewalk  or  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
road. 

He  swore  every  woman  he  met  on  the  street 
winked  at  him,  or,  rather,  at  his  whiskers. 

One  day  he  hit  on  a  scheme  he  thought 

would  put  an  end  to  all  his  troubles.    The  next 

time  a  female  rolled  her  eyes  at  him  he  bolted 

into  a  hallway,  and  shoved  the  whole  bunch  of 

[17] 


WHISKERETTA 

'em  inside  his  undervest.  All  went  well  for 
about  thirty  seconds,  and  then  something  hap- 
pened. I  didn't  find  out  just  what  it  was  until 
Ike  got  out  of  jail.  A  policeman  told  me  the 
trouble  began  by  Ike  throwing  a  back-action 
fit,  and  then  going  into  convulsions  before  he 
could  tell  'em  what  was  the  matter  with  him. 
But  Ike  told  me  afterward  that  every  one  of 
those  whiskers  began  to  tickle  him  at  the  same 
time,  and  they  all  got  down  to  business  so 
quick  he  couldn't  catch  his  breath  to  save  his 
life.  He  said  the  more  he  twisted  and 
squirmed  the  more  they  tickled,  and  before  he 
could  pull  'em  out,  a  cop  pinched  him  and  run 
him  in  for  a  crazy.  By  the  time  they  landed 
him  in  jail  all  the  lights  had  gone  out  for  him. 
But  when  they  undressed  him  and  hauled  out 
a  basketful  of  whiskers  he  began  to  come  back 
to  life. 

[18] 


WHISKERETTA 

He  was  a  couple  of  weeks  getting  over  his 
troubles,  and  he  found  on  measuring  his  whis- 
kers they  had  grown  six  inches.  This  made 
him  mighty  blue — in  fact,  Ike's  blues  were  so 
blue  they  were  black. 

So  one  day  I  told  him  I  thought  with  such  a 
wonderful  growth  of  whiskers  as  he  had  been 
deformed  with  all  these  years,  they  ought  to 
be  made  to  pay  their  board  and  room,  to  say 
nothing  of  their  car  fare.  I  told  him  to  get 
some  kind  of  dope  with  a  long  name  to  it, 
paste  his  picture  on  the  front  of  the  bottle  and 
sit  back  and  count  his  money.  He  grabbed  at 
it  like  a  matinee  girl  reaches  for  an  ice-cream 
soda,  and  he  told  me  he'd  pay  me  big  for  my 
bright  idea.  Said  he  had  always  been  free- 
hearted ever  since  he  was  a  child,  when  he  will- 
ingly gave  the  core  of  his  apple  to  the  biggest 
boy  at  school. 

[19] 


Yes,  I  remember — the  biggest  boy  whaled 
him  once,  and  Ike  was  generous  with  anything 
he  didn't  want  after  that.  Oh,  Ike  had  little 
fuzzy  bristles  on  him  even  when  he  was  a  kid ; 
I'm  dead  sure  of  that! 

All  the  while,  that  bright  idea  of  mine  had 
been  traveling  some  in  Ike's  mind.  He  pre- 
vailed on  me  to  go  uptown  with  him  right  away 
and  rent  a  room,  so  he  could  begin  counting 
his  money.  He  hated  to  go  alone — said  some- 
times it  seemed  as  if  his  whiskers  pulled  so 
hard,  it  made  him  tongue-tied,  and  he  realized 
he  was  a  mighty  poor  talker.  Said  if  I'd  go 
into  the  business  with  him,  do  the  talking,  and 
furnish  the  money  to  open  up,  he'd  furnish  the 
whiskers  and  the  face  to  advertise  it. 

I  bit — and  after  dickering  with  half  a  dozen 
landlords,  we  finally  rented  a  cheap  room,  and 
opened  up  for  business,  with  a  second-hand 

[20] 


WHISKERETTA 

three-legged  table  and  a  cane-bottom  chair 
that  had  exploded  in  the  seat,  leaving  only  a 
hole  with  a  fringe  of  straw  around  the  edge, 
that  was  an  awful  teaser  for  the  wind  when  it 
felt  playful. 

Of  course,  Ike  drew  the  chair ! 

He  pointed  out  to  me  that  he  was  the  whole 
thing,  for  without  his  whiskers  the  business 
couldn't  run. 

Sure!  I  had  already  begun  to  see  what  I 
was  up  against.  Yes,  Ike  he  drew  the  chair, 
hole  and  all,  and  I  drew  all  that  was  left — 
the  table.  Of  course  I  could  have  sat  on  it  if 
it  hadn't  been  a  cripple,  but  I  saved  money 
buying  it,  so  I  couldn't  very  well  kick  on 
my  own  business  deal.  I  had  to  furnish 
the  money,  and  furnish  the  office,  and  I 
ain't  rolling  in  long  green — not  by  a  jug 
full! 

[21] 


WHISKERETTA 

Ike  spotted  a  map  of  the  United  States  in 
the  second-hand  store  that  was  so  old  it  had 
crawled  away  and  died.  Yes,  sir,  I'll  bet  that 
map  was  printed  a  couple  of  years  after  Co- 
lumbus discovered  America.  And  then  he 
spotted  a  spittoon,  with  a  hole  in  the  side  of  it, 
that  I'll  bet  came  over  on  the  ship  with  that  Co- 
lumbus bunch.  The  map  was  a  quarter  and  the 
spittoon  was  ten  cents,  and  Ike  wanted  'em 
both — said  they'd  show  up  dandy  in  the  office. 
As  Ike  chewed  tobacco  from  morning  till 
night,  I  could  see  where  that  spittoon  would 
pay  for  itself  in  a  week,  but  I  balked  at  the 
map.  Ike  threatened  to  let  me  out  of  the  busi- 
ness if  I  didn't  buy  it — showed  me  how  we 
could  point  out  to  our  customers,  just  where 
in  the  United  States  our  biggest  factories  were 
located.  Ike  was  getting  to  be  a  regular  bunco- 
steerer,  even  before  we  opened  up  the  fake 

[22] 


WHISKERETTA 

joint.  I  gave  in,  for  if  Ike  got  mad  and  took 
his  whiskers  and  went  home,  there  I'd  be  with 
all  that  office  furniture  on  my  hands,  and  no 
whiskers  to  continue  the  business.  Oh,  he  had 
me  all  right,  and  he  was  mighty  wise  to  the 
fact. 

So  I  bought  the  map  and  the  spittoon  and 
told  Ike  to  go  ahead  and  enjoy  himself.  He 
got  busy  just  as  soon  as  we  reached  the  office, 
and  he  chewed  and  chewed  till  it  looked  like  to 
me  he'd  dislocate  his  jaw  bones.  He  squirted 
most  of  the  juice  through  the  hole  we'd  just 
bought,  but  I  told  him  never  mind — not  to  be 
discouraged — to  keep  on  and  try  to  hit  the 
rim,  so  any  one  that  came  in  would  think  we'd 
had  a  lot  of  customers  and  were  doing  a  rush- 
ing business. 

Then  Ike  he  wrote  a  sign,  on  a  big  piece  of 
cardboard,  saying: 

[23] 


WHISKERETTA 

CLOSED     TO-DAY, 

BUSINESS  MEETING  OF  THE  COMPANY 

and  pinned  it  on  the  outside  of  the  door — then 
we  both  tore  up  a  lot  of  paper  and  threw  it  on 
the  floor,  and  Ike  he  spit  as  often  as  he  could 
make  juice,  and  it  wasn't  long  before  we  be- 
gan to  think  we  were  doing  a  land-office  busi- 
ness. 

We  got  hold  of  a  job  lot  of  "seconds"  in 
six-ounce  bottles,  and  had  some  labels  printed 
that  showed  Ike  and  his  whiskers  full  length, 
and  for  a  fact,  after  we  got  the  dope  bottled 
up,  if  I  hadn't  known  what  was  in  it,  I'd 
bought  a  bottle  of  it  myself — it  sure  looked 
honest  to  a  stranger! 

We  took  plain  city  water  for  the  founda- 
tion, and  beet  juice  for  the  coloring.  I  in- 
sisted on  putting  in  a  little  alcohol  to  pre- 

[24] 


WHISKERETTA 

serve  the  stuff,  and  Ike  settled  on  winter  green 
for  the  smell.  It  sure  was  cheap,  but  it  had  to 
be,  or  it  could  never  see  the  light  of  day.  The 
entire  bank  account  of  the  President  and 
Treasurer  amounted  to  $6.98— and  $6.00  of 
that  we  borrowed  from  the  janitor.  We  nailed 
him  the  minute  we  rented  the  room,  and  hon- 
est, we  almost  had  to  take  it  away  from  him. 
He  didn't  like  our  looks,  somehow,  but  Ike 
talked  to  him  like  a  father,  and  showed  him 
how  rich  he'd  be  inside  of  a  month,  and  after 
a  hard  struggle,  Ike  got  all  he  had.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  felt  sorry  for  him,  for  there  were 
tears  in  his  eyes  when  Ike  took  the  money 
away  from  him,  but  Ike  saw  great  possibili- 
ties in  that  $6.00,  and  he  would  have  chloro- 
formed him  if  he  couldn't  have  got  it  any  other 
way.  So  after  paying  $1.98  for  the  bottles 
and  $5.00  for  an  ad.  in  the  daily  paper,  we 

[25] 


WHISKERETTA 

mixed  the  dope,  shook  it  up,  sat  down  and 
waited. 

But  I  haven't  told  you  the  name  of  it ! 

Ike  called  it  Whiskeretta — named  it  for  his 
whiskers  and  the  first  girl  he  ever  had.  Ike 
thought  a  powerful  lot  of  Etta,  and  way  back 
in  courting  days,  he  named  everything  he  ever 
had,  dead  or  alive,  after  Etta.  Named  his 
horse  after  her,  and  an  old  moth-eaten  tomcat 
that  every  one  in  the  village  had  taken  a  shot 
at — yes,  sir,  he  named  'em  all  after  Etta.  He 
always  told  her  some  day  he  was  going  out 
West  to  make  his  fortune,  and  when  he  did, 
he'd  name  the  biggest  thing  that  belonged  to 
him  after  her. 

So  when  this  opportunity  presented  itself  his 
whiskers  being  the  biggest  part  of  him,  and 
also  being  a  man  of  his  word,  he  named  this 
wonderful  discovery  Whiskeretta,  so  that  Etta 

[26] 


WHISKERETTA 

in  years  to  come  could  point  out  with  pride  this 
famous  hair  grower  to  her  future  generations ; 
and  if  Whiskeretta  had  taken  with  the  public 
as  we  expected  it  to,  it  would  sure  have  kept 
Etta  busy  pointing — as  the  last  time  I  saw 
Etta,  she  weighed  over  300  pounds,  had  14 
children  and  21  grandchildren. 

Under  the  circumstances,  Ike  certainly  was 
a  lucky  man  when  he  came  West.  Better  to 
be  out  West  busted  than  back  East  overloaded. 

Well,  the  next  morning  we  got  down  to  the 
office  of  the  Whiskeretta  Company  just  about 
daylight,  for  fear  we'd  miss  somebody.  Hour 
after  hour  went  by  and  nothing  happened,  ex- 
cept an  occasional  squirt  of  tobacco  juice  into 
the  Company  spittoon. 

It  was  so  quiet  in  the  Whiskeretta  office 
that  a  deaf  and  dumb  asylum  was  as  noisy  as 
a  circus  compared  to  it.  As  usual,  Ike  was  in 
[27] 


WHISKERETTA 

the  President's  seat,  and  the  Treasurer  was  in 
his  usual  seat — the  seat  of  his  pants,  gol  darn 
it,  the  only  seat  that  was  mine  around  that  of- 
fice— and  I  asked  Ike  if  we  didn't  appear  to  be 
wasting  time. 

Asked  him  if  he  knew  how  to  play  tiddle-de- 
winks,  or  button,  button,  who's  got  the  button 
while  we  were  waiting  for  the  crowd  to  rush 
in,  when  suddenly  a  shadow  loomed  up  against 
the  glass  in  the  door.  It  stopped  a  minute, 
long  enough  to  read  Ike's  cardboard  sign,  then 
went  on  down  the  hall. 

I  looked  at  Ike,  and  saw  his  bald  head  was 
covered  with  beads  of  perspiration,  and  he  was 
biting  his  finger  nails  like  he  was  starving  to 
death. 

I  jammed  his  hat  over  his  bald  head,  for  if 
any  intending  customer  got  sight  of  that  shin- 
ing surface,  Whiskeretta  Hair  Tonic  would 

[28] 


WHISKERETTA 

be  queered  before  it  even  had  a  chance  to  peep. 

Once  more  the  shadow  showed  up  on  the 
glass,  and  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  hold  Ike. 
We  clinched,  but  he  beat  me  to  the  door,  and 
opening  it,  called  out: 

"Hey,  are  you  looking  for  any  one  in  par- 
ticular?" 

Ike's  hat  had  fallen  off  in  the  scuffle. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  it's  any  of  your 
business  if  I  am,"  snapped  a  dyspeptic-looking 
man,  with  a  face  the  color  of  an  overripe  cu- 
cumber. His  head  was  second  cousin  to  a  bil- 
lard  ball,  and  he  didn't  have  an  eyebrow  to  his 
name. 

"Well,  by  the  looks  of  that  bald  head  of 
yours,  my  friend,  I  can  give  you  a  pointer 
that  will  tickle  your  ribs  so  you  won't  be  able 
to  get  your  face  together  for  a  week.  Every 
woman  you  meet  will  want  you  for  her  own, 

[29] 


WHISKERETTA 

and  if  you're  married,  you'll  have  to  hang  out 
a  sign  'Taken'  to  avoid  the  rush." 

"Is  that  so?"  sneered  the  newcomer.  "Why 
don't  you  hypnotize  your  own  head,  and  see 
what  happens.  Looks  to  me  like  you  need 
hair  about  as  much  as  anything  I've  ever  run 
across." 

But  Ike  was  game. 

He  trotted  out  his  whiskers,  and  you  could 
have  knocked  the  man's  eyes  off  with  a  stick. 

"For  the  love  of  Mike,"  he  gasped,  "Where 
did  you  get  those  whiskers?" 

"These,"  began  Ike,  stroking  them  lovingly, 
"these  are  the  result  of  using  Whiskeretta." 
Ike  kept  running  his  fingers  through  the 
glossy  hair,  and  rolling  his  eyes  at  the  aston- 
ished stranger. 

"Wall,  I  swan!"  said  the  man.  "Gimme  a 
dozen  bottles!" 

[30] 


WHISKERETTA 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,"  returned  Ike, 
airily  waving  him  aside.  "This  ain't  any  of 
your  cheap  stuff,  my  friend.  This  marvelous 
hair  tonic  is  worth  its  weight  in  gold,  and  will 
cost  you  $5  a  bottle.  Now — er 

"I  don't  care  if  it's  $50  a  bottle — gimme 
six  of  3em!  I've  got  plenty  of  money  and  no 
hair,  and  by  the  looks  of  you,  I  should  judge 
you've  got  plenty  of  whiskers  and  no 
money." 

He  must  have  been  a  mind  reader! 

Well,  Ike  just  about  broke  his  neck  getting 
back  into  the  office  to  wrap  up  those  six  bottles 
of  Whiskeretta,  and  his  hands  shook  so  tying 
up  the  bundle  that  he  rattled  another  leg  off  of 
our  office  table. 

After  he'd  closed  his  fist  over  that  $30.00 
and  had  given  the  poor  devil  his  package  of 
gold  bricks,  I  was  in  hopes  the  man  would 

[31] 


WHISKERETTA 

light  out,  for  Ike  looked  like  he  was  going  to 
throw  one  of  his  old-time  fits. 

When  he  finally  did  tear  himself  away  he 
hollered  back  at  Ike: 

"Say,  friend,  take  my  advice,  and  go  soak 
your  own  head  in  Whiskeretta,  or  carry  on 
the  business  by  correspondence,  for  that 
'shiner'  of  yours  has  got  a  billiard  ball 
going  some." 

But  he  couldn't  hurt  Ike's  feelings — not 
after  leaving  $30  in  the  treasury  of  the  Whis- 
keretta Company. 

After  we  got  strength  enough  to  get  back 
into  the  office,  being  treasurer,  I  argued  I 
ought  to  hold  all  the  money  we  took  in,  but 
right  there  Ike's  bristles  began  to  sprout 
again,  and  he  couldn't  see  it  my  way,  even 
with  his  glasses  on. 

He  claimed  I  was  just  a  figurehead  in  the 
[32] 


WHISKERETTA 

business,  anyway,  for  without  him  and  his 
whiskers  there  wasn't  any  business. 

Sure!  One  and  one  makes  two — I  can 
count! 

While  Ike  was  still  blowing  off  steam,  some 
one  knocked  on  the  door.  We  both  made  a 
run  for  it,  and  found  a  female  standing  there 
that  looked  like  a  package  of  dried  ap- 
ples that  had  been  given  away  with  a  box 
of  prunes. 

The  sunburned  wig  she  was  carrying  around 
was  three  sizes  too  big  for  her,  and  turned  the 
tops  of  her  ears  over,  like  a  man's  hat  on  a 
three-year-old  kid. 

As  usual,  Ike's  whiskers  completely  rilled 
the  doorway. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  raising  both  hands,  and 
falling  back  in  astonishment,  "you  are  the  man 
—the  blessed  man,  whose  picture  adorns  the 
[33] 


WHISKERETTA 

Morning  Trumpeter.  You  are  my  heart's 
ideal,  my  mental  picture  of  the  perfect 
man!" 

She  was  looking  at  his  whiskers — for  you 
can't  really  see  Ike  himself,  excepting  side 
view.  She  never  even  saw  me — but  she  didn't 
look  good  to  me,  anyway,  so  I  didn't  feel  like 
I'd  missed  anything. 

Ike  cleared  his  throat. 

"I  am  the  originator  of  Whiskeretta,  the 
magic  tonic  that  grew  these  whiskers.  Step 
right  up  and  feel  of  'em,"  he  added,  throwing 
out  all  the  chest  he  had. 

She  did  feel  of  'em — she  mussed  'em  up  and 
played  peek-a-boo  with  'em,  until  Ike  began  to 
squirm. 

"I  want  a  bottle,"  she  cooed — "not  for  my- 
self— mercy,  no! — but  for  my  aunt.  You  can 
see  for  yourself  I  have  plenty  of  hair." 

[34] 


WHISKERETTA 

"I  do  see,"  said  Ike,  getting  a  side  view  of 
where  the  wig  had  missed  connections. 

I  went  in  and  wrapped  up  a  bottle  of  the 
stuff  and  Ike  said: 

"Five  dollars,  madam,"  without  turning  a 
whisker. 

The  old  girl  was  stung  all  right,  but  she  got 
upon  her  feet  like  a  thoroughbred. 

"Haven't — haven't  you  any  sample  bottles, 
Mr.  Whiskeretta?" 

"Why,  madam,"  Ike  returned,  his  voice 
trembling,  and  chuck  full  of  tears,  "every 
drop  of  this  marvelous  tonic  is  worth  twice 
its  weight  in  gold.  It's  even  more  precious 
than  Radium,  and  will  cost  $10  a  bottle  inside 
of  two  weeks.  It  is  only  to  introduce  it  on 
this  side  of  the  water  that  you  are  able  to  buy 
it  to-day  at  this  extremely  low  price,  madam." 

Honest,  I  never  dreamed  Ike  would  turn 
[35] 


WHISKERETTA 

out  to  be  such  a  natural-born  fakir.  I  knew 
well  enough  he  was  a  natural-born  liar,  but  I 
never  thought  he'd  turn  out  such  a  convincing 
one. 

Still,  we  needed  the  money  if  we  had  to 
steal  it.  The  beets  we  made  the  juice  of  hadn't 
been  paid  for  yet. 

On  the  strength  of  Ike's  flowery  speech  his 
victim  bought  two  bottles  and  meekly  handed 
out  a  $10  bill  that  looked  good  enough  to 
eat. 

Ike  was  fast  getting  to  that  stage  of  the 
game  when  he  unconsciously  threw  back  one 
side  of  his  coat  and  strutted  around  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  With  that  $40  in  his 
pocket,  maybe  he  was  wise  in  keeping  his 
hands  on  it,  after  all,  for  he  knew  I  was  hun- 
gry as  a  dog  and  flat  busted.  Yes,  sir,  the  only 
thing  I  had  in  my  hand-me-downs  was  the  re- 

[36] 


WHISKERETTA 

ceipt  for  that  three-legged  table  and  the  spit- 
toon. 

The  postman  stopped  with  a  letter  for  the 
Whiskeretta  Company. 

Ike  was  in  such  a  rush  to  open  it  he  chewed 
the  end  off.  He  thought  he  smelt  money,  but 
it  was  only  a  bill  for  the  beets. 

Business  lagged  for  a  few  days.  Two  or 
three  men  sneaked  up  to  the  door  and  knocked, 
and  on  finding  the  dope  would  cost  'em  $5  a 
bottle,  made  some  excuse  and  tried  to  get 
away. 

But  not  a  single  one  of  'em  got  away — not 
without  they  took  a  bottle  of  Whiskeretta 
along  with  'em.  Ike  cut  the  price  of  it  all  to 
pieces.  Some  of  'em  got  it  for  a  $1  a  bottle; 
some  for  50  cents,  and  one  man  got  a  bottle  in 
trade  for  a  "Don't- Worry"  button.  The  last 
man  only  had  10  cents,  but  he  got  his  bottle 

[37] 


WHISKERETTA 

just  the  same;  Ike  hated  to  disappoint  him, 
and  it  was  8  cents  profit,  anyway. 

In  the  course  of  ten  days  we  began  to  get  a 
good  many  letters.  The  first  one  that  came  was 
addressed — 

TO  THE  PRESIDENT 

of, 
WHISKERETTA. 

I  knew,  of  course,  being  only  the  COMPANY 
part  of  the  business,  it  didn't  belong  to  me,  so 
I  let  Ike  open  his  own  mail.  I  saw  him  get 
white  around  the  gills,  and  as  he  handed  it 
over  for  me  to  read,  he  said: 

"Some  d fool  trying  to  be  funny!" 

This  is  what  it  said: 

[38] 


WHISKERETTA 

DEAR  SIR: 

I  purchased  a  bottle  of  your  hair  tonic,  and 
accidentally  dropped  it  on  the  sidewalk.  None 
of  it  run  out,  however,  and  on  opening  the 
package  when  I  reached  home,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, I  found  a  beautiful  muff  of  long,  silky 
black  hair,  that  would  have  cost  me  $15  at 
least,  in  any  store  in  town.  Many  thanks. 

MARY  DOOLITTLE. 

I  looked  at  Ike.  He  was  chewing  tobacco 
and  sawing  wood  at  the  same  time. 

The  postman  brought  in  a  few  more  letters, 
which  we  proceeded  to  open.  The  first  one  be- 
gan: 

THE  WHISKERETTA  COMPANY: 

DEAR  SIRS — I  brought  home  a  bottle  of 
your  hair  tonic  to  use  on  my  bald  head.  My 
wife  advised  me  to  try  it  on  the  dog  first,  as 
we  have,  or,  rather,  did  have,  a  Mexican  hair- 
less dog.  I  did  so,  and  yesterday  he  took  the 

[39] 


WHISKERETTA 

blue  ribbon  at  a  dog  show  given  by  our  Vil- 
lage Improvement  Society  for  being  the  finest 
specimen  of  Angora  dog  ever  brought  over 
from  Angoria. 

Yours  truly, 

P.  D.  QUICKWORK. 

Ike  was  getting  warm  around  the  collar — in 
fact,  he  had  taken  it  off  altogether,  while  I'd 
been  reading  that  last  letter. 

"'Nother  d-  fool  that  thinks  he's 
smart,"  he  snorted.  "Fire  away,  Smith,  I  can 
stand  anything  now,  so  read  the  whole  bunch 
of  'em." 

At  times  Ike's  language  isn't  as  ladylike  as 
it  might  be !  The  next  one  was  short  and  sim- 
ple. It  read: 

GENTS: 

My  wife  bought  a  bottle  of  your  wonderful 
hair  tonic.  She  carelessly  let  a  few  drops  run 

[40] 


WHISKERETTA 

down  into  her  eyebrows,  and  now  she  has  to 
braid  them,  so  she  can  see  to  do  the  housework. 

Resp't, 

P.  BEAN. 

"Come  again,"  said  Ike,  as  he  began  walk- 
ing back  and  forth,  squirting  tobacco  juice  in 
every  corner  of  the  room,  and  kicking  the 
Company  spittoon  under  the  table. 

I  was  there  with  the  real  goods. 

The  next  letter  began : 

MY  DEAR  FKIEND  : 

A  day  or  twro  ago  I  bought  a  bottle  of  Whis- 
keretta  for  my  mother-in-law.  She  has  been 
losing  hair  rapidly,  and  so  have  I.  Some  of  it 
run  down  on  her  chin,  and  now  she  either  has 
to  shave  every  day  or  get  a  job  in  a  dime  mu- 
seum as  a  bearded  lady.  She  hasn't  visited  us 
since,  for  which  please  accept  my  sincere 
thanks. 

Yours  Resp't, 

WILL  W.  UPP. 

[41] 


WHISKERETTA 

"Well,  wouldn't  that  come  and  git  you!" 
bellowed  Ike.  "What  in  thunder 

"Listen,  Ike,"  I  answered.  "Here's  one 
that'll  curl  your  whiskers:" 

To  THE  WHISKERETTA  COMPANY: 

GENTLEMEN:  I  want  to  write  you  what 
Whiskeretta  has  done  for  me.  I  have  used 
your  magic  hair  tonic  for  only  two  days,  and 
now  the  harber  has  to  cut  my  hair  with  the 
lawn  mower,  for  which,  by  the  way,  he  charges 
me  extra.  I  put  a  few  drops  of  Whiskeretta 
on  some  backward  tomato  plants,  and  the 
vines  grew  so  fast  they  dragged  the  tomatoes 
all  over  the  back  yard,  and  for  all  I  built  a 
high  board  fence  to  keep  them  inside  the  yard, 
the  last  I  saw  of  them  they  were  climbing  over 
the  fence  and  making  off  down  the  road  to  the 
canning  factory. 

There  was  little  left  in  the  bottle,  so  I  rubbed 
it  on  the  fence,  and  we  will  be  able  to  gather 
two  or  three  crops  of  curled  hair  off  of  this 

[42] 


WHISKERETTA 

fence  every  season.  Your  discovery  is  a  God- 
send to  humanity.  Ship  me  a  case  of  it.  In 
opening  the  bottle  we  spilt  some  of  it  on  the 
oilcloth  in  the  bathroom,  and  when  we  went  in 
there  the  next  morning  we  found  a  3  x  6  black 
fur  rug  that  would  be  a  bargain  at  $12  in  any 
furniture  store  in  town. 

What  will  you  take  for  the  business? 
Yours  truly, 

I.  M.  A.  HUSTLER. 

"Keep  Hustler's  address,"  said  Ike,  his 
voice  so  weak  I  could  barely  understand  him. 

He  was  sitting  humped  up  in  the  Company 
chair,  a  good-sized  portion  of  him  coming  out 
of  the  hole  in  the  seat.  Ike  had  shrunk  up 
something  awful  in  the  last  half  hour.  Being 
as  thin  as  a  rail  to  start  with,  I  wouldn't  have 
been  a  bit  surprised  to  have  seen  him  double  up 
like  a  jackknife  and  go  down  clean  through 
the  hole  onto  the  floor. 

[43] 


WHISKERETTA 

"Can  you  beat  it?"  he  whispered,  rolling  his 
eyes  at  me  like  a  man  on  shipboard  who  hates 
to  let  go  of  a  full  course  dinner. 

"Surest  thing  you  know,"  I  returned. 
"Hold  on  to  the  chair,  Ike,  for  this  one's  a 
'solar  plexus/ ' 


To  THE  WHISKERETTA  COMPANY: 

My  wife  bought  a  bottle  of  your  wonderful 
hair  tonic,  and  yesterday  the  baby  got  hold  of 
it  and  swallowed  a  few  drops.  He  went  into 
convulsions,  and  the  doctor  found  it  had  gone 
down  his  windpipe,  and  the  hair  was  coming  in 
so  fast  he  was  choking  to  death.  After  nearly 
killing  the  baby,  he  managed  to  get  it  out,  and 
although  we  realize  what  a  wonderful  hair 
grower  Whiskeretta  really  is,  we  threw  it  away, 
as  it  was  too  dangerous  to  have  around  with 
young  children  in  the  house.  Do  you  suppose 
it  would  have  the  same  effect  on  a  grown-up? 
My  mother-in-law  has  been  with  us  a  year  now, 

[44] 


WHISKERETTA 

and  I'm  a  man  who  knows  when  he's  had 
enough. 

P.  S. — We  saw  a  beautiful  weeping  willow 
tree  in  our  back  yard  this  morning,  and  to  our 
surprise,  found  it  was  our  old  garbage  bucket 
before  we  threw  the  bottle  of  Whiskeretta  into 
it.  We  have  named  it  the  "Whiskeretta 
Tree/'  and  as  we  needed  shade  in  our  back 
yard,  and  didn't  want  to  wait  so  many  years 
for  a  tree  to  grow,  you  can  imagine  how  happy 
we  are  over  it. 

P.  S.,  P.  S. — OUR  DOG  is  DEAD!  He  swal- 
lowed a  seed  that  fell  off  the  "Whiskeretta 
Tree"  to-day,  and  the  new  hairs  in  his  stomach 
tickled  him  to  death. 

I'm  going  to  tell  my  mother-in-law  the  seeds 
are  fine  for  indigestion. 

Will  report  full  particulars  later. 

With  best  regards, 

Yours  truly, 

I.  B.  HENPECKED. 

[45] 


WHISKERETTA 

Ike  grabbed  his  hat  and  made  a  run  for  the 
door,  and  he  never  came  back  to  the  office  of 
the  Whiskeretta  Company.  In  fact,  I  never 
saw  Isaac  again.  I  heard  afterward  he  sold 
out  the  business  to  Hustler  for  $10,000,  and 
after  getting  a  clean  shave,  went  down  into 
Mexico  and  started  a  rubber  plantation. 

The  janitor  attached  the  furniture  of  the 
company  for  the  $6  we  owed  him,  and  the  orig- 
inal Whiskeretta  Company  went  out  of  busi- 
ness. Sometimes  I'd  swear  it  was  a  pipe 
dream  if  I  didn't  still  hold  the  receipt  for  the 
three-legged  table  and  the  beets. 

THE  END. 


[46] 


A    000  111  189     7 


